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Archive for October, 2011

Perception

There are mighty few people who think what they think they think.

–Robert Henri

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I was reading some The Art Spirit from artist/teacher Robert Henri when I went to do some research on his career.  I came across all the normal things, including the images of the numerous portraits he had painted. All good and nice.   But it was the quote above that stuck with me.

Do we really match our own images of ourselves?  Does the rest of the world see us in the same way as we imagine ourselves to be?  Do we really see our own flaws clearly or are we like the person who goes to a palmreader and believes it because they reinforce everything positive that we believe about ourselves in their reading?  Are we ever as good as we believe or as bad as others might see us?

If we saw ourselves as others do, would we be pleased or disappointed?

I suppose the ultimate follow-up to such questions is Does it matter

I don’t know why I wrote this this morning as there is no specific direction in which I’m taking this.  No answers.  No personal revelations.  Just a few words from a person in the past made me consider this. 

Oh, well.  Time to work.  But I’m sure this will be on my mind for most of this day.

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In yesterday’s I talked a bit about some of the films that I watch in the studio as I work, mainly talking about the real classics.  I didn’t mention some of my favorites simply for the fact that I can’t watch them in the studio.  Some are pretty self explanatory, like silent films or foreign films where attention to the screen is required to simply follow the basic storyline.  I have many, many of these great silent and foreign language films just waiting to be watched when I’m not busy in the studio. I’m not sure when that will be.

But there are other films that I can’t watch because of the  way in which they’re directed and put together.  They are simply too beautifully constructed to not watch, so  much being lost by not seeing every bit of the film.  Take for instance the films of David Lean.  I love so many of his films but seldom watch any of them for just this reason.  Lawrence of Arabia is a prime example.  The scene shown above is a wonder.  There is only a few words of dialogue.  The whole scene is simply two man at a desert well as a rider approaches from far across the desert floor, fading in and out in the haze of the heat as though he were a mirage.  It is almost silent but is filled with tension.  This is only one scene in a film filled with grand wide shots that speak volumes, scenes that should not be missed in order to feel the power of the whole film.

Or take a peek at Lean’s Ryan’s Daughter, set in Ireland in the early part of the 20th century.  The scenes set on a desolate beach as the local townsfolk who support the IRA struggle in a mighty storm with waves crashing all around them to retrieve a shipment of rifles coming in to shore.  It is one of the most amzing scenes in film, mainly because it was all real.  There was no computer generated effects, no wind machines.  This was a dangerous effort, almost as perilous as the scene it depicted.  How could I not look at something like that?

I’m not even getting into his other great films– The Bridge on the River Kwai, Dr. Zhivago or the sublime Summertime, with its spectacular scenes of Venice taken from a train on which Katherine Hepburn’s character arrives.  Nobody used the train as powerfully in cinema as did Lean.  His shots of the train wreck in The Bridge on the River Kwai or his shots of the train crossing the frozen desolation of Siberia in Dr. Zhivago are masterful.

Then there’s his earlier, less epic in scale work.  The moody Brief Encounter or his now classic takes on Charles Dickens’ Oliver Twist or Great Expectations are just perfectly put together films, beautifully shot and full of great nuance. These are the work of a master, a maker of films for adults.  Watching them is really a pleasure in itself. So why would I have something on that I couldn’t fully appreciate.  Makes me want to blow off the day and watch a David Lean film.

 

 

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Favorite Films?

I was out of the studio yesterday doing some outdoor projects while the sun was shining.  When I cam ein this morning there was a phone message from an artist friend who, knowing of my habit of watching old movies in the studio while I worked, asked if I had any recommended films he could borrow.  I began thinking of what films I might pull from my collection for this person who is probably twenty years or so younger in age.  It was a much more difficult task than I had thought it might be.

I mean, the films each of us enjoy, like paintings, are subject to our own personal tastes and values.  Whenever there is a list of great films made, there are very few films that are not disputed in their placement on the list.  I’m sure there are a few people who think that Casablanca, normally near the top on most lists, is overrated and not to their taste.  I don’t know this artist friend well enough to know his personal tastes so the task becomes greater.

You might say that I should just suggest my favorite movie but I don’t have any one specific film that I would call my favorite although there are films that whenever I stumble across them on television, I have to watch even if only for a short while.  Most of them are classics.  NinotchkaSingin’ In the RainBen Hur,  which features the magnificent chariot race in the photo at the top of this post.  The Philadelphia Story and just about any movie with Cary Grant and/or Katherine Hepburn– Holiday and Bringing Up Baby are both great films.  Speaking of Hepburn, there’s The African Queen with her and Humphrey Bogart, another guy who I could watch nearly everything he did including the aforementioned Casablanca. 

Or I could go with any Hitchcock  film.  That brings me back to Cary Grant in North by Northwest or Jimmy Stewart in Rear Window or Vertigo. Or Jimmy Stewart in just about anything.  Harvey Mr. Smith Goes to Washington.  Or any of his great westerns such The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, the classic he made with John Wayne.

This quickly becomes a name association thing with one name reminding  me of another, making me realize that this could be an almost impossible task.  I haven’t even gotten around to some of my other personal favorites.  The Godfather.  Most of the Coen Brother, Capra and Preston Sturges films.  John Ford westerns– how could I leave off The Searchers?!   And about a thousand more that I don’t have time to mention and that’s without even venturing too far into the present generation of film.  I just can’t imagine making a list of ten films that I could call my favorites.

I’m going to have to call this friend today and narrow this down.

 

 

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The Goal Ahead

Nothing can stop the man with the right mental attitude from achieving his goal; nothing on earth can help the man with the wrong mental attitude.

–Thomas Jefferson

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I came across this image of a painting from a number of years ago that I have always really liked and have always felt an immediate response to my interpretation of it.  It always reads the same to me, a sentiment that  pretty much jibes with the quote from Jefferson above.  So often we live as though we are flotsam on the sea, aimlessly adrift on currents that we don’t control.  I know I have been guilty of this at points in my life.  None of my actions at those times were leading in any specific direction and at times made me feel as though I were in a whirlpool that kept spinning me in all directions, leaving me confused and despondent.

A goal is purpose, a reason for every step forward.  A reason to fight for every day, every moment we have on this earth.  Once we have a goal, a purpose, time becomes precious.  Without purpose, time becomes meaningless.

That’s what I immediately see in this piece and it always tweaks me a bit, gets me thinking about how I might be drifting away from my own purpose and how my own time becomes ever more precious with every passing day.  It is a gentle slap on the cheek for me to move, to take action now.

And I will.  Have a great day.

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The official dedication of the Martin Luther King Jr. National Memorial is set for today in Washington, DC.  When thinking about King, the thing that always comes to mind for me is a sense of a grand dignity that demnded respect even from those who stood in direct opposition to the things for which he stood.  It manifested itself in a steadfast and calm manner that really evoked the righteousness of his cause.  At least, that’s what comes to my mind.  Qualities that we all should aspire to, especially those who choose public service as a career.

I came across this wonderful version of the gospel song, Lord Don’t Move the Mountain, by the great Mahalia Jackson that really seemed to fit the day and the occasion.  I was not raised with religion or faith as large parts of my life but I am moved by the faith that is evident in the power of Mahalia Jackson’s singing on this song and several others.  Like I wrote of King above, there is a grand dignity to it.

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In the Studio

This is a painting that is from a number of years back, part of a very small group of similar pieces.  Maybe three at the most.  I’m not even sure if I ever publicly showed these pieces, although I think I did exhibit one for a very short time.  This particular piece is 12″ by 48″ and is on a masonite panel.  It sits unframed in the main part of my studio and has remained one of my personal favorites for years. 

 I can’t really describe fully why I so like this painting, it being so atypical of my work. Perhaps it is the color and the sense it gives of light streaming through stained glass.  It has a lovely transparency.  Or maybe it’s simple abstraction of it, the idea of its possibility of representing anything.  For me, it is the obvious– a bird’s eye view looking down on a red road as it weaves down the topography of a hill to a lakeshore. 

But I also see it sometimes at the same time as being a feather from some exotic bird.  The blue circle reminds me of the eye from a peacock’s feather and the green plays off this color in a way that recalls some sort of feather.  I call this piece Red Feather Road but try not to tell anyone for fear it will alter the way in which they see the painting, trying to make their view fit into the title’s parameters.

But maybe I like this piece because it is not typical of my work but I still see myself in it while others may not.  Perhaps it is this sense of disguise that I like.  Like the feel of wearing a mask , walking about in anonymity.  Maybe I should call this painting The Mask.

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Pooh

 

Original Drawing by E.H. Shepherd

It was on this day back in 1926  that  the first of  A.A. Milne’s classic children’s books, Winnie-the-Pooh, was published.  In the 85 years since, the beloved Pooh and Christopher Robin, along with his close group of friends who inhabit the Hundred Acre Wood,  have engrained themselves into the fabric of childhoods around the globe.  So great is this gentle bear’s influence that he has garnered streets name after him in Warsaw, Poland and Budapest.  There was even a Latin translation of the original book that became a NY Times Bestseller– the only book in Latin to ever do so.  Not to mention the countless trinkets and films the series has spawned from the Disney Co.

But while there may have been product overkill over the years, the basic gentleness of Winnie the Pooh remains intact after all these years.  His openly good nature and sweet simplicity still lives on.  And that, I think, is a good thing.  We could all learn a thing or two from this little honey loving bear and his friends.

Map of Hundred Acre Wood from EH Shepherd 1959

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Jose Feliciano at the 1968 World Series

In 1968, in that turbulent year that saw Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy assassinated and war protesters rioting in the streets, there was a controversial incident at the 1968 World Series.  It seems so minor in the scale of retrospection but I find it very interesting and symbolic of how we as a people resist the inevitability of change.

In October of 1968, the musician Jose Feliciano was asked by legendary Detroit Tigers broadcaster Ernie Harwell to perform the National Anthem a before one of the World Series games in Detroit between the Tigers and the St. Louis Cardinals.  Feliciano performed a slow and slightly jazzy version, much in the style for which he was known.  Little did he know, it inspired a storm of controversy.

This was before anyone had performed stylized versions of the song, before the crashing fury of Hendrix’ version or any of the myriad other versions since.  It is said that World War II vets were throwing their shoes at their televisions and the network switchboards were swamped with angry calls.  Soon, many radio stations refused to play Feliciano’s music altogether and his career went into a tailspin that took three years for him to overcome.

When I hear the version now, I am mystified by the reaction of the time.  It is a respectful and lovely version, perhaps not as bombastic or as confident as some like in their national anthem.  And certainly not as ridiculous and disrespectful as some versions since.  But we were a country in turmoil and our confidence was surely shaken by all that was happening around us.  The world seemed to be changing every day and in ways that seemed out of the control of the average person. 

 Much like today.

Here are two short videos.  The first is Jose Feliciano telling the story and the second is the recording of that performance from 1968.  Tell me this isn’t a beautiful version of the song.

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We all are influenced by the stimulus around us and art is a big part of that, from the music we hear to the visual imagery that we take in every day.   Most of us simply take it in and don’t process it directly to our behavior.  Well, maybe we do but not in ways that seem obvious to the outside world.  But Adolph Hitler did. 

Biographers state that he was very drawn as a very young man to the work of the German symbolist painter Franz von Stuck (1863-1928) whose paintings were dark in nature and filled with the symbology of Germanic myth.  In fact, the painting above, The Wild Chase, is referred to by many biographers as the main influence for Hitler’s signature moustache and forelock.  The central character in The Wild Chase depicts the Germanic god Wotan ( the equivalent of the Norse god Odin) as he sweeps across the sky in a thunderhead, accompanied by a pack of wolves.  He bears a creepily ominous resemblance to Hitler.  The painting was from 1899 when Hitler was  a mere 10 years old. 

It’s probably no coincidence that he chose this particular piece as he used a lot of Germanic mythology in his manipulation of the German population and the idea of a German god sweeping across Europe, terrorizing everyone in his path seems in line with how Hitler viewed his mission.

It’s a shame that von Stuck’s main claim to fame is probably this awful connection.  He was a well known teacher and some of his students are among the best known painters of the 20th century– Paul Klee, Kandinsky and Albers among them.  His  own work, which lost favor in the later part of his life,  is filled with deep, dark colors and extraordinary imagery that, while sometimes bordering on decadent or creepy, is beautifully striking and deserving of recognition. 

 

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Invisible Gifts

There is a destiny that makes us brothers: none goes his way alone,

All that we send into the lives of others comes back into our own.

–Edwin Markham

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This is a smaller piece that I recently finished.  This was a little different in that I started it with the intent of communicating a specific message and feel.  I wanted to get across the idea that we all are connected to the world in ways that seem very invisible at times.  We reach out and touch people in ways we may never know and are touched in ways that sometimes mystify ourselves.  We often feel alone in our journey but our lives overlap multitudes that we often fail to see or acknowledge.  Our words and actions, even the smallest and least thought out, make their way into the fabric of the universe and bind us to it. 

As much as we may dispute it, we are not alone in this world.  We are part of its mesh and are always in contact, even in the darkest of times. 

Maybe it can be called karma or something akin to it.  I don’t know.

My words fail me here, as is often the case especially when trying to describe things already shrouded in mystery.  Just thinking…

 

 

 

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